Acts Beyond Redemption

by S. Burke

  “Oh. I didn’t know we had you on a permanent retainer.”

  “Me and about a dozen others I know of; murder and kidnap is big business unfortunately.”

  Trish came hurrying towards the two men, her face flushed. “We have an I.D.”

  “Positive?”

  “Yes. Name’s Stuart Alexon, profile so far is the same as the others, missing for quite a while before anyone noticed. The pattern is the same. He’s twenty-six years old, works at a factory in a small town north of here, about three hundred miles. He didn’t show up for work, but as he’d only started recently, when he was a no show they figured he just didn’t like the job. New in town, no friends to speak of. He didn’t drink. So no one noticed he was missing at first. It’s only when a neighbour noticed a dog mooching around and losing weight that they checked out the house. They figured he’d just up and left the dog behind. The newspaper up there only published the wire photo this morning; it’s a local rag that comes out once a week. I’ve ordered the chopper to pick us up. The mobile unit is already on its way.”

  “Nice work. Doc, you don’t even need to pack,” Mike said, looking at the packages. “I keep an overnight bag here. Trish, are you ready to travel?”

  “Give me fifteen minutes.”

  “You got it.”

  She left the room at a run. The team were ready to go eighteen minutes later.

  The terrain was rugged and the chopper had to set down in a parking lot on the outskirts of town. The mobile units would arrive and set up later.

  The local sheriff had taped the place off, and deputies were standing around talking to neighbours when the team arrived, wearing FBI emblems clearly on their jackets. Forensics went immediately into the house.

  “Phew, these folks don’t mess around,” commented the deputy. “Do they really think the ‘Countdown Killer’ is right here in Denton, Sheriff?”

  “That’s what they think,” replied Sheriff David T. Andrews.

  “Man, that isn’t gonna look good come re-election, Dave.”

  “I know it.”

  “Okay, so here it is,” said the Sheriff, turning to the team. “Which one of you people is runnin’ this show?

  “That’d be me, Sheriff.” Mike Matheson extended his hand.

  They exchanged names and then Mike introduced the rest, making certain to have Trish introduced first. The sheriff raised his eyebrows when she was introduced as Special Agent Clayton. He’d figured they’d brought a secretary along. Female agents just didn’t sit right with him.

  He didn’t offer to shake her hand, but Trish was used to small town reactions. It annoyed her, but there was nothing she could do about it.

  The team and the sheriff went inside.

  “You touch anything, Sheriff?” asked Mike.

  “My boys may have, before I got to talk to ’em. It’s my day off, I was up at the lake fishin’. They weren’t certain what was happenin’ here. The paper didn’t mention anything about the guy being connected to them serial murders. Just said he was a person of interest, and asked if anyone knew him, is all.”

  “Lewinski, see to it that we get prints from anyone who has been is this house this morning.”

  “Okay, Mike.”

  “That includes you, Sheriff. I take it you weren’t wearing gloves?”

  “We ain’t had no call to ever need that in this town, Matheson. Folks around here still sleep with their doors open in the hot weather.”

  “Not anymore they won’t.” Nigel Cantrell pulled on the latex gloves as he spoke and made his way into the house.

  “Sheriff, my mobile van will be here in a few hours,” continued Mike. “I’ll need accommodation for a team. You got a hotel in town?”

  “Not one that has rooms.”

  Mike looked across at Trish.

  “I’ll get the trailer homes on the way, Mike.”

  “Thanks. Any idea how long Stuart Alexon was in town for, Sheriff?”

  “No, not really. Old man Peters rents out this house. He said it was paid up a year in advance around six months back. But I don’t think anyone moved in till a couple of months later.”

  “That’s different, Doc.” He turned to Nigel. “The others all had their own places, bought and paid for in cash. This is the first we’ve had that didn’t.”

  “Yeah, I heard. Mike, something else that’s different. She used the letter S. The pattern’s broken.”

  “We got a copycat here, you think?”

  “If it is, they fluked the way they bound him the same way.”

  “Too much of a coincidence?”

  “Yeah, way too much. Something different is goin’ on though. This had to have happened before she was picked up. How far are we from where the patrolman pulled her over?”

  “Close on five hundred miles, Doc.”

  “Hmm. A long way. This is beginning to look like the victim went willingly. Same as the others. No sign of a struggle. Everything neat, bed’s even made. But leaving the dog behind doesn’t sound right. Sheriff, are you certain the animal belonged to Stuart Alexon?”

  “Well, I can’t rightly say. The neighbours say they ain’t certain. Could be a stray. The old guy two houses down is caring for it.”

  “How long since the victim was at work, sheriff?”

  “A little over six weeks.”

  “Six weeks! And you’re telling me nobody thought it was odd?”

  “He was a drifter; we figured he’d just moved on. No one complained and the rent was all paid up. The guy was a loner. Made no friends while he was here. We look after our own, but he was a stranger.”

  “Let’s hope we find him in the next four days. Otherwise he’ll never have the chance to make friends again.”

  “Shit. Poor bastard.”

  “You got that right at least.” Mike pushed past the man and headed round back to see if he could find any signs of a vehicle.

  “Check the social security details again, I want every speeding ticket, parking violation, every jaywalking fine this guy ever had.”

  “Done already, Mike.”

  “And?”

  “And nothin’. No car as far as we could tell.”

  “Sheriff?”

  “He didn’t appear to have a car. He walked to work the few days he was there.”

  “Well, he sure as hell had some way of getting here. Do you have a regular bus service?”

  “Bus comes through twice a week from the rail junction over in St Johns. Nobody noticed a strange car around town. We get tourist traffic coming through all the time. Fishing here is well known. We got ourselves a fine lake.”

  “Trish?”

  “I’m on it.”

  “Thanks. Sheriff, we’ll talk later.” Mike dismissed the man. He signalled for Nigel to join him as he walked around back.

  “Sounds like he hitched. Maybe he hitched himself right into this mess.”

  The doctor frowned. “This still breaks the patterns, Mike. It’s almost as if this was set up deliberately to do just that.”

  “Surely no one plans these things that far ahead?”

  “Oh, make no mistake. If Sheila Harrington is involved this would have been planned to the last detail.”

  Stuart Alexon listened intently; there it was again. Dirt bikes. They’d be here soon. “Oh, God, please let them just kill me and get it over with,” he moaned through his burnt swollen lips. The burns were crusted and weeping; he felt ill, the fever burning from the infections, the myriad of lacerations across his back a crisscrossed stinking mass of flies.

  He strained his ears, what was the other sound? Different to the bikes, what was it?

  “I’m here!” he screamed. “I’m here!” The chopper flew overhead quite low. My God, they were looking for him. He cried out in vain. Sobbing, he understood they couldn’t hear him. They never would.

  The boys swung the dirt bikes back down towards the lake and the sound carried a long way across the water.

  “Hey, Billy, did you hear that?
”

  “The helicopter?”

  “Yeah, that and there was somethin’ else, like an animal caught in a trap or somethin’.”

  Billy shrugged. “No, I just heard that helicopter. Where do you think it was goin’? I don’t think I’ve ever heard one round here before. Don’t know. We are gonna get our asses whipped if we don’t head back home soon. It’s getting dark.”

  “Aw, don’t be such a baby. Pa won’t even know we’re gone till he wakes up in the mornin’. He woulda had a skin full by now.”

  “I guess, maybe. I’m going back, I wouldn’t want be caught out here come dark. The trail is hard enough in daylight,” said Billy.

  “There it is again! You musta heard that?”

  “Yeah, I did that time. Sounds like a big ol’ bear to me.”

  “Don’t be stupid! We ain’t had no bear around here for years.”

  “That don’t mean we ain’t got one now,” Billy responded.

  “Whatever the hell it is it don’t sound happy.”

  “You got that right. Well, are you comin’ or not?”

  “No, I’m gonna go find out what made that sound. You go ahead. I’ll be along later. I might stop by and visit with Leanne for a while as well. So don’t fret if I’m not back till early mornin’.”

  “You and Leanne gonna get married you think?” grinned Billy.

  “Hell, no. She ain’t the sort of girl you marry, little brother. You wait till you gets to be fifteen like me, then you’ll understand. Cover for me with Pa if I’m late back. Okay?”

  “Don’t I always?”

  “Yeah. I might just have to keep you around. Take care on the ride home. Watch the edges.”

  “I ain’t stupid.”

  “No, but you are only a kid, I’m the grown up.”

  “Whatever. I’ll see ya in the mornin’. Have fun with Leanne.”

  “See ya.”

  Deakin Rowlings headed in the direction of that weird sound, while his nine year old brother Billy took off for home.

  The sound had stopped, and Deakin was about to give up in frustration when he thought he spotted something up ahead. On the other side of the lake, he thought he saw a cabin back behind the tree line. Damn! He’d lived here all his life and he’d never heard about a cabin this far down the lake. Nobody fished down here. The best places were a couple miles further back towards town. He couldn’t be sure what it was, but the glimpse through the trees sure looked like a cabin outline to him. Maybe he could bring Leanne up here and they could have some private time. He regretted what he’d said to Billy; he was just showing off. Leanne was his girl, not a tramp. He’d have to set Billy straight on that tomorrow.

  He rode further up and then he heard it again. “Holy shit. That’s a human screamin’!” He spoke aloud in his surprise. Someone was in trouble. They were screaming “Help me, God, help me.”

  Deakin stopped still and tried to locate exactly where the sound was coming from. It seemed like it was coming from that area across the lake. He called out; “Where are you? I can’t see you?”

  The voice came back. “Get help! Please hurry! Be careful, they will be back soon.”

  “Where are you, mister?”

  “It’s a cabin. Please, please hurry, they are going to kill me. God, help me, please!”

  Deakin knew the sound of desperation when he heard it. Town was too far back. Whoever it was over across the lake didn’t sound like they could wait that long. He could swim the lake, he’d done it countless times. He called, “I’m comin’, hold on. I’ll be there soon.”

  “Hurry. Dear God, hurry. They’ll be back soon.”

  Deakin didn’t have time to ask who they were. He laid the dirt bike down, took off his shoes and dived into the cold water, striking out as fast as he could for the opposite shoreline.

  It was cold in the water, yet the urgency of the man’s cries made it imperative he complete the swim.

  He shivered as he clambered out, and couldn’t see much in the growing dark. “Where are you, call out again so I can find you!”

  “Here, my God, I’m here, you sound close, please, for the love of God, hurry.”

  “Okay, I’m close, call out again.”

  “I’m here.”

  Deakin turned to his left to follow the sound and made out the faint outline of the cabin, about fifty yards away. He ran, holding his surprise in check at the cabin being here at all. He opened the door and the stench made him gag. “Jesus Holy Christ, what the …?”

  “There’s a lamp near the door to your left. Please hurry.”

  Deakin felt his way towards his left and found a bench, found a lamp and turned it on. The sight that greeted him in the faint light made him sick to his stomach, and scared.

  “What the hell …?” There was a man sitting naked, strapped to a chair and hog tied with what looked like duct tape.

  “No time to talk … grab one of those knives and cut me loose, please just hurry. They’ll be back to give me water and do some more damage very soon.”

  Deakin looked frantically around; he found a hunting knife and approached the badly injured man.

  “Shit! Mister, what did they do to you?”

  “No time. Hurry, for God’s sake, boy. Hurry.”

  Deakin cut the bonds on the chair first and then the ones around the man’s feet. His hands were last, and the flesh was hanging around the bindings where they had cut into his skin.

  The stench of the man’s own excrement clung to him, and Deakin threw up. This man was a sorry mess, his face and back covered in pus-filled sores.

  The man tried to stand and fell. His legs had been bound so long he had no feeling left in them. One thing Deakin knew for certain; there was no way this guy could make the swim back to the bike.

  “I’ll get you away as far as I can, Mister. Then I’ll go for help. Come on, lean on me now, can you stand?”

  “I’ll try. They will kill us both if they come back. We have to move.”

  Deakin hooked the man’s arm over his shoulders and they made slow and painful progress outside. The man was ill, and kept slumping forward; Deakin didn’t think he’d make it very far.

  “Mister, listen to me now. I’m gonna hide you as best I can, then I’m gonna go for the sheriff.”

  “Don’t leave me, boy!”

  “Hush. Be quiet. These others, whoever they are, will hear you. Shut up. Answer me quietly. How do they get here? Dirt bikes?”

  “No, I’ve never heard bikes until today. I think they walk in.”

  “That’s a mighty long walk. This side of the lake is around fifteen miles from the nearest roadway.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know. For mercy’s sake, don’t leave me here. They’ll find me.”

  “Shut up. I need to think. Boat … they must come in by boat. If you ain’t heard it, they might moor it further down and walk from there.”

  “Listen to me, boy. They will kill you if they find you. I’ll stay quiet, you need to get help.”

  “How many are there?”

  “I’ve seen four. There could be more than that.”

  “Okay. I’ll ask later. Come on, we need to get further from the cabin. I won’t take the dirt track, they’ll expect that, I’m gonna take you down by the water. You’ll need to lie still in the reeds. I’ll swim back across the lake to where I left my bike, and I’ll get help.”

  “They’ll hear the bike.”

  “Good, let them. They’ll think we are both on it, maybe.”

  “Please hurry!”

  The man seemed to black out. Deakin was worried about him drowning in the reeds if he was unconscious, but he had little choice. He backtracked and tried to make certain the reeds looked as undisturbed as possible. The darkness was complete now and the moon would soon be out. It was a full one tonight, damn it.

  Deakin entered the water and struck out for shore. He found his bike and his shoes and was bending to put them on when he felt the cold muzzle of a gun on the back of his
neck.

  “Well, well. We have a little rescuer here. Hello, boy,”

  Deakin thought he would pass out, he was so afraid. “What?”

  “You heard me, boy. You been meddling in something that doesn’t concern you.”

  The man wasn’t clearly visible. He spoke with a posh accent, as Pa would say. Deakin tried bluffing.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mister, I just been for a swim is all. Take that damned gun out of my neck.”

  The laugh wasn’t reassuring. The man spoke into a radio. “I got him. Young punk. You find our friend yet?”

  The answer came back, “No.”

  “I’ll bring the kid with me. He’ll soon talk.”

  “Hurry.”

  “Okay.”

  “We are going on a little trip. Move on down to the water’s edge.” He poked the gun barrel into Deakin’s back. There was a boat and another person sitting in it waiting. “No time for rowing. Use the engine this time.”

  Deakin was shoved into the craft and the motor fired up.

  The man in the reeds heard it and whispered a silent prayer. “God, don’t let them find me.” He could only hope the boy had made it away in time.

  He could hear them searching. The voices carried, but they were looking along the trail, just like the boy thought they would. He began to hope for the first time. Maybe, just maybe, he would live after all.

  The man dragged Deakin from the boat and into the cabin. Three others were waiting. No one spoke.

  “Where is he, boy?” the man with the gun asked.

  “Where is who?” asked Deakin.

  The gun butt caught him in the mouth and he went down spitting blood.

  “Let’s try that again. Where is he?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, mister.”

  This time a heavy foot booted him in the guts. He screamed. The man in the reeds heard it.

  “Easy. We need him conscious.” A female voice said. “Come on now, youngster. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Just tell us where our friend is and you can go.”